Silver Pair Drabbles
by FlarkThis
Summary: Just a bunch of SP drabbles I've written.
1. Untitled 1

**Rating:** PG/PG13 maybe?  
**Summary:** Ohtori has had enough with Shishido's attitude.  
**Disclaimer:** The Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi. I'm just playing with his characters.

* * *

Ohtori Choutarou has had enough. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to pin Shishido down (and oh, wouldn't he like to pin Shishido down) long enough to talk to him. It's kind of impressive that Shishido has evaded every conversation Ohtori has tried to start without actively avoiding him. He almost wants to congratulate Shishido on taking cowardice to such an advanced level, but Shishido would have to let him actually talk to do so.

It's not like Ohtori has given Shishido reason to run away. So, yeah, Ohtori had almost confessed to his feelings and Shishido may or may not have totally understood what was going on (judging by the way he'd blushed about 10 shades of red and looked like Ohtori was trying to kill him slowly), but really there was no reason for this. Shishido had made more excuses in the past month than in the rest of his life, and it's starting to grind. They still play tennis together (their combination is top notch) and they still meet up to walk together at the end of the day, but as soon as Ohtori opens his mouth, Shishido gets flighty.

At first, Ohtori had let it go. Shishido was weird, okay? Sometimes the best thing to do was to let him wallow by himself for a while. Ohtori is patient. (Patience is a virtue, you know, and Ohtori has a reputation to keep). He thought he could sit back and let Shishido digest this, give Shishido time to get over himself and admit that he was actually really down with the whole idea (Ohtori's not stupid - Shishido has had the hots for him for at least a year) but really now. Shishido was taking this to unimaginable extremes. Ohtori kind of wants to strangle him.

It's all good though. Ohtori has the perfect plan. Normally, if Shishido is having an off day and wants to slink away to be by himself at lunch, Ohtori is perfectly happy to let him (and yes, okay, Ohtori knows exactly where Shishido goes to hide and occasionally sets up camp near by to spy on him) but Shishido isn't having a bad day. He's having a bad month and it's because he's dumb (so dumb in fact, that Ohtori occasionally has to sit back and ask himself why he even likes the idiot) and doesn't want to hear the words Ohtori has for him.

It's not like Ohtori has a straight up love declaration, here. There's no flowers or chocolate or anything Shishido will gag over. It's more of a "hey I like you a lot and sometimes I think about doing _things_ to you but we're both teenage boys so that's perfectly normal and you like it anyway" and Shishido is being goddamn pathetic by hiding from it. So Ohtori isn't going to let him hide anymore.

As soon as the lunch bell rings, he high tails it to the secluded spot Shishido likes to spend his lunch in. It's a nice spot, if you like grass and dirt and bugs with your lunch, but most importantly, it's hard to find. He leans back against a tree and waits for his stupid, _stupid_ (God he's so stupid, why?) senpai to show up. Like clockwork, he does.

As soon as Shishido sees him, he's turned on his heel and marching away. Ohtori won't stand for it. Shishido is fast on the courts, no doubt, but Ohtori's legs are damn long and he can cover some ground when he puts his mind to it. He catches Shishido in five long strides and spins him around. Shishido immediately starts babbling.

"Uh, hey Choutarou. Look I just forgot - I mean, I promised - I've gotta go back - You know, right? I just gotta -"

Ohtori rolls his eyes.

"Shishido-san," he says flatly. Shishido tenses, but shuts up. He probably expects Ohtori to talk to him, but really, he's had enough trying to talk. So he grabs him by the shoulders and yanks him forward, smashing their lips together in a really awful parody of a kiss. Shishido goes tense, hands slamming flat against Ohtori's chest, and Ohtori almost pulls back. Except no, wait a second, Shishido isn't pushing away. He's curling his fingers in Ohtori's uniform shirt, messing up the perfect lay of it, and pulling Ohtori closer. Ohtori almost smirks.

The smash of their lips eases, less violent and one sided. Their lips press together, gentle caresses. Shishido's body goes lax, curving forward until they're flush together and Ohtori sighs happily. They lean against each other, passing chaste kisses back and forth, for quite a bit longer than they really should before, Ohtori straightens up and separates them.

Ohtori brushes his fingers along Shishido's jaw, and Shishido looks up at him. His eyes are huge and vulnerable and there's a blush settling over his face. His fingers are still twisted in Ohtori's shirt (which is now untucked and sporting a seriously askew tie) and he's kind of gaping.

"Uh," Shishido says, super eloquently. Ohtori laughs, leaning forward to press a kiss to Shishido's forehead.

"Are you done running away from me now?"

"Che," Shishido scowls, pulling away from Ohtori, embarrassed. "Stop being lame, Choutarou."

Ohtori smiles, sweet and totally innocent (Ohtori is only ever sweet and innocent, you know) and wraps a hand around Shishido's wrist.

"C'mon, Shishido-san. Let's go get lunch."

—-

A/N: So, I don't think I can articulate my feelings very well but I wanted to write an "Ohtori Choutarou is the secret underground king of Hyoutei and no one realizes it because he's so sneaky about it" kind of story and this is what happened. Idk I literally typed this on tumblr in about 15 minutes and I have no idea how good it is because I only read through it once. I'm so sorry. D:


	2. Untitled 2

**Rating:** PG-13 for Shishido's dirty mouth  
**Summary: **Times up for Ohtori to confess.  
**Disclaimer:** The Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi. I'm just playing with his characters.

* * *

It hadn't been a conscious decision, but being here now, it was definitely the most fitting way to say goodbye. An empty court in the twilight, bathed in synthetic light, and the hard thwack of a tennis ball against strings. Shishido is all hard edges and bitter fight on the other side of the net, returning each ball with the ferocity Ohtori has long relied on. They rally desperately, extending the last game, keeping the ball in play far longer than it should be.

Tomorrow morning Shishido leaves for his first year at university.

Even so, Ohtori is steadily reeling in the last point of this game. He watches his senpai, his partner, his best friend skittering across the court and feels ill. For weeks or months or years now Ohtori has been watching, waiting for the right moment. The exact, perfect moment to tell Shishido about the embarrassing hero worship turned innocent childhood crush turned hopeless, helpless love. Only… the perfect moment had never announced itself and now Ohtori is staring down his last chance.

His volley is just about perfect and Shishido hardly bothers to try running it down. The ball lands in Shishido's court and signals the end. Game, Ohtori. They take a few seconds to catch their breaths, bent at the waist and panting at the ground.

If he wants to tell Shishido, he's got to do it now. Ohtori has promised to visit once Shishido is settled and Shishido has sworn up and down that he'll come home to hang out when he can, but Ohtori has an older sister and he knows what happens when people go off to university. Admitting the truth may ruin their friendship, but Ohtori isn't a coward. He'd never forgive himself for letting Shishido walk away without knowing the truth. The "what if" would kill him, so he can risk the last few minutes of their friendship. Everything is changing, one way or another.

A warm, breathless laugh breaks the stillness, and Ohtori looks across the net. Shishido is standing with his racket against his shoulder, half cocked grin turned his way. Ohtori's lips twist into an answering smile, even while his stomach roils with anxiety.

"Damn, Choutarou. It's no wonder we always crushed our opponents. Could you hit the ball any harder?" Ohtori straightens up, pressing his face into a mask of innocent confusion.

"What do you mean, Shishido-san? I was just hitting the ball normally," Ohtori says with manufactured uncertainty.

"Oi, don't get cute with me," Shishido growls. He smiles unabashedly and points at Ohtori with his racket. "If you swung that racket any harder it would probably snap in half. I felt like my arms were going to fall off every time I returned a ball."

Shishido walks to the net, free hand offered up for a shake. Ohtori nonchalantly sets his racket on the ground and moves up to take up Shishido's hand. His fingers close around Shishido's smaller hand loosely, and it's a one-two-three pump hand shake.

"Good game, Choutarou," Shishido says lowly. Ohtori's stomach flips and his heart breaks into a gallop. As Shishido moves to pull his hand free, Ohtori tightens his grip. Shishido looks up at him, eyes narrowed, brows lowered, mouth working. It's an expression of confusion with a side helping of impending anger. Ohtori feels a bit light headed and a lot terrified, but he's going to do this and quickly. "Short and to the point" was made for Shishido, so Ohtori wastes no time.

His free hand settles along the sharp line of Shishido's jaw, tipping it up just slightly. Ohtori feels Shishido try to pull his hand free, but it's a half assed gesture. If Shishido were really to struggle, Ohtori'd let go. Shishido is making confused noises, and the flush of exertion across his cheeks is growing darker as he blushes. Ohtori closes his eyes and presses the lightest of kisses to Shishido's lips. It's over in seconds. Ohtori stands straight, hand falling from Shishido's jaw, eyes open. This time when Shishido jerks his hand back, Ohtori lets go. He grits his teeth and awaits the inevitable fallout.

Shishido is spluttering, starting words but never finishing them. He's red from hairline to shirt collar, and his expression is thunderous. His feet haven't moved though. That, at least, calms some of Ohtori's nerves. If Shishido isn't going anywhere, then things aren't completely ruined yet. Ohtori waits patiently, even as his insides twist with unease, as Shishido starts to calm down, silencing his stuttered exclamations. His expression is dark, still, but his gaze is turned inward. Finally he makes a sound, some combination of sigh and frustrated growl.

"What the hell was that, Choutarou?"

"I tried to find a good time to tell you," Ohtori starts, uncomfortable, "but it was never right and tomorrow you're leaving and I…"

"And you what?" Shishido's voice is sharp and impatient, but he doesn't sound angry. Tense and maybe a bit upset, but not angry.

"I just didn't want you to leave without knowing," Ohtori says quietly. Shishido grunts, a rough, disgusted sound, and rolls his eyes.

"You're a pain in the ass, Choutarou." Shishido reaches up, snatching the front of Ohtori's shirt and pulling him down. Their lips meet in a quick, harsh kiss that ends before it really begins. Shishido tightens his grip on Ohtori's shirt and stares at him.

"I've been waiting around, hoping you'd catch on for_ever_ and you don't have the balls to say anything until _now_?" Ohtori rears up, indignant.

"If you were waiting for so long, you could have said something. It didn't have to be me." Shishido makes a face that Choutarou knows well. It's what he likes to call Shishido's "trying to look tough because I'm so embarrassed I might die" face.

"That's not the point, Choutarou!"

"Yes it is! Don't blame me because you were too scared of your kouhai to say anything."

Shishido growls as they stare each other down. They glare at each other, so close they're almost cross eyed, chests heaving under the heightened emotions. And then, suddenly, Shishido tips his head back and laughs. Ohtori stares at him, mouth hanging open. He's beginning to wonder if he's broken Shishido, when the hand in his shirt loosens and strokes down his chest, firm and wonderful.

"Shit, Choutarou," Shishido mutters, trying to swallow down the laughter still peaking in his voice, "we wasted a lot of time."

"We still have time," Ohtori answers somberly.

"It'll be a bitch with me at school, you know."

"It's us, though," Ohtori says firmly. "We can do it." Shishido laughs, balling up his fist and holding his forearm out to Ohtori. It's a gesture they've made countless times on the court, an affirmation of their trust and loyalty. Their arms bump together, but Shishido's hand unfolds and catches Ohtori's, rather than dropping away.

"Yeah," Shishido agrees, gripping Ohtori's hand fiercely, "we can."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Kisses

**Title:** Kisses  
**Wordcount:** 1693  
**Summary:** Ohtori is sunburnt. Shishido is a good senpai.  
**Disclaimer:** The Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi. I'm just playing with his characters.  
**Author's Notes:** So two things, really. First, I don't write like ever really but Silver Pair was an OTP of mine YEARS ago and I've recently fell in love with them again. I've had a bunch of ideas for them floating around in my head for a while now, so I wrote some down. Secondly, this is a short bit from a longer thing I started writing and gave up on. It's sort of cathartic, I guess. I had a really strange coming-of-age journey and finally came to the conclusion that I'm gray-A. I suppose I wanted to express how weird it felt or something, because I couldn't get this idea out of my head. So I made the Silver Pair suffer from my own youthful sexual confusion. I have no regrets. I hope it's enjoyable for everyone nonetheless. Unbeta'd.

* * *

Their team training camp is nearly over, and honestly, it can't come soon enough. Not that camp is ever uneventful, but there's been a heat wave on this entire week and everyone is worn, physically and emotionally. Today was particularly bad, and the entire team had opted to play in the pool during the middle of the day, rather than train more. It hadn't occurred to him then, but running around shirtless in this sun, with skin as pale as his, was asking for trouble.

And so he finds himself now, full from dinner and perfectly ready to crawl into bed. He would definitely do that, too, except his skin pulls tight and itchy across his chest and his back aches, hot and painful. So instead, he sits upright in the center of the bed, naked but for a pair of low slung old shorts, trying not to move. His eyes are trained on a book, but he's not really reading it. Mostly, he's thinking about Shishido splashing in the water, all warm tanned skin and lithe muscle.

He hasn't felt the same sharp jolt of arousal around Shishido since that childish forehead kiss, and it's left him befuddled. Is he asexual? Gay? Was it just that moment? Or is it Shishido himself? The confusion whirls around in his head, makes him dizzy and exhausted. It makes him uncomfortably conscious of Shishido, of his physical expressions of affection, of his own lack of response. He's got no benchmark to compare his confusing sexuality to, no one to look to for advice, and it leaves him with few options but to keep on. So, for the most part, he ignores it all.

Even if there's no sexual attraction there, he can still admire Shishido's aesthetics. He's grown up now, nearly eighteen. His body is still small, slender and sharp, but he's grown comfortable with himself, with the way his body moves and looks. It eases Shishido's insecurities, boosts his confidence until, cliché as it is, he glows. Ohtori can't say he's ever wanted to bend Shishido over a table and have his wicked way, but he definitely doesn't mind being allowed to stroke those defined muscles, to see the way Shishido shivers under his hand, and to bask in the pleasure Shishido feels.

As if summoned by Ohtori's thoughts, there's a knock and Shishido pokes his head through the open door. Their eyes meet briefly, and Ohtori smiles. Taking that for the invitation it is, Shishido pads across the room and flops onto the bed next to him. He's spread out on his back, one arm over his eyes, and feet still touching the floor. He's wearing a tank top that's definitely too big for Ohtori even, and a pair of baggy old shorts Ohtori has seen numerous times over the course of their friendship.

"What're you reading?" Ohtori blinks over the top of his book at Shishido, because, oh yeah, he was reading, wasn't he? But Shishido is nothing if not impatient, so before Ohtori can kick his brain into gear, Shishido has snatched the book from his hands and is holding it in the air above his head.

"Lord of the Rings? Again, Choutarou? I shoulda fucking guessed." But there's a smile in his voice and Ohtori knows Shishido means it in the nicest way possible.

"It's a good story," he says, huffing in faux indignation. He crosses his arms, planning on making a fuss, until his body reminds him of how burnt he is. He hisses slightly, carefully unfolding his arms and cursing himself for remembering neither sunscreen nor aloe. Shishido sits up and twists, casting a disapproving eye on him.

"You burnt yourself pretty good, huh? You got any aloe?" Ohtori shakes his head, smiling sheepishly.

"You'd think I'd have learned by now," Ohtori says with weak humor. Shishido hums, and hands the book back to Ohtori. He's on his feet and halfway to the door when he calls over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Choutarou. Your senpai will take care of you."

Ohtori smiles to himself, carefully marking his place and setting the book aside. He unfolds his legs and leans forward, passing the time by flexing and extending his feet. When Shishido reappears, he closes the door behind him and Ohtori hears the lock click. He wonders if Mukahi was being nosy again. Then Shishido is waving the bottle of green gel in the air and trotting over to him.

"It's a good thing you have me around, Choutarou. I remembered how bad you burn."

"Mmhmm, I'm pretty much hopeless without you." It's a joke, really, but it makes both of them wince. Shishido is graduating this year. Shishido is graduating, and Ohtori isn't. Any reminder makes them both dread the ever approaching end.

Shishido changes the subject with one firm, no nonsense hand. Aloe vera on his fingers, Shishido quickly smears the comforting gel across the burn on Ohtori's chest. It's different, unusual. Ohtori typically does the touching, while remaining largely untouched. But this, it's okay. Nice even, because the aloe feels good and Shishido doesn't linger and make Ohtori uncomfortable.

"Your back is worse, right?" Shishido mutters, preoccupied with getting more aloe to actually leave the bottle. After Ohtori's quiet sound of agreement, Shishido nods once. "Lay on your stomach, then. I'll get it."

Ohtori does as he's told, carefully settling his weight on his chest. He rests his cheek on the pillow of his folded arms, and waits. The bed rocks gently as Shishido shifts around, and Ohtori finds himself closing his eyes. The chill of aloe on his back makes him shiver, until Shishido places his palm gently against his ribs. It stays there, fingers sliding up and down slowly, while his other hand carefully slicks aloe over the deep red burn high on Ohtori's back.

It feels good. Shishido's hands are affectionate, gently possessive, but practical and purposeful. The touching is simple and sweet, not lusty, and Ohtori likes it. He wants Shishido to stay like this forever, pouring his feelings into Ohtori's skin through the palms of his hands. He's startled when he feels Shishido's weight shift, when hot breath puffs against the back of his neck. The hand on his side doesn't stop sliding against his ribs.

"Can I?" Shishido murmurs, low and thick. Ohtori swallows heavily, uncertain but trusting his partner, and nods once.

Shishido's lips descend onto Ohtori's skin, light and gentle, mindful of the sunburn. His lips are soft, velvety and lightly damp. They press fleetingly down his spine, even with the bottom of his shoulder blades, and back up. Then they venture outwards, across his shoulders, left then right. Ohtori presses down his nerves, because he's not sure how he feels. He doesn't feel the snap of arousal but at the same time, he wants to give Shishido this. Whatever it is Shishido wants.

Shishido's weight settles on the bed beside him, his stomach pressed against Ohtori's side, levered up on one elbow. His fingers tickle down Ohtori's spine, from just below his shoulder blades to the waistband of his shorts, and back up.

"Choutarou," Shishido says lowly. Ohtori cracks his eyes open, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. Mostly, Shishido looks amused. But the corners of his eyes are pinched and there's an edge of frustration in his jaw. Ohtori doesn't mean to be a tease, doesn't even realize most times, but he can tell Shishido feels it. He's just opening his mouth to apologize when Shishido lifts his fingers from Ohtori's back and, with a wide grin, flicks the tip of his nose.

Ohtori splutters, wide eyed and shocked. His startled expression drapes a change over Shishido's features. His hand settles against Ohtori's jaw and his grin softens into a simple curve of the lips. His eyes move slowly over Ohtori's face, warm and sweet and totally head over heels. It hits Ohtori like a knee in the gut. Shishido's in love with him.

There's a slow, hot unfolding, low in his belly. While the physical affection has done nothing for Ohtori, this look in Shishido's eyes and his subsequent realization is doing plenty. And here, now very suddenly, Ohtori _wants_ Shishido. He's scared, though, confused because he doesn't understand _why_ or _how_ and it plucks at him distractingly.

The feeling is fading as quickly as it arrived, and Shishido has schooled his features into something less, well, _lame_. So, frantically, with all his considerable determination, Ohtori takes a hold of that slow heat in his belly and acts on it. He pushes himself up on one arm, reaching for Shishido with the other, and carefully leans in for a kiss.

Shishido makes this totally ridiculous squawking sound, but his lips are warm and welcoming. His hand, still cradling Ohtori's jaw, shifts to guide Ohtori's face, lining them up just so. Ohtori's never kissed anyone before, is grasping at a feeling which is quickly fading away, and is busy worrying about what will happen when he A) fails at kissing or B) stops wanting to be kissing. He's an absolute mess of emotions, but Shishido's lips are gentle and persistent, and when Shishido makes this soft, happy sound, Ohtori decides maybe it doesn't matter.

He's still scared and confused. Doesn't understand these short bursts of arousal and the how or why of them. But, he knows Shishido is happy. He knows that when he pulls away, Shishido will let him, blamelessly. He knows that if he hooks his arm around Shishido and pulls him close, Shishido will stay curled up with him until it's lights out and he has to go back to his own room. He knows that when Shishido leaves, he'll ruffle Ohtori's hair, place a kiss on the crown of his head, squeeze his fingers. He knows that Shishido will stop to murmur goodnight, all warm and rough and perfect before he slips out the door. He knows he'll lay there, giddy and dumb, until he finally manages to drift to sleep.

And for the things he doesn't know, well, he and Google have a date when he gets back home.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Shishido's Birthday

This was Shishido's bday fic that I posted on Tumblr. I keep forgetting to upload things here. D:

* * *

Choutarou is glaring at his plate so hard it'll probably ignite any minute now. Shishido can admit that today has been, oh… completely shitty, but that's no reason to take it out on dessert. Shishido gives his own plate a consoling glance, before shoving another bite of cake in his mouth. He chews slowly, watching Choutarou stare at purple frosting (and really, his mom needs to stop making him a birthday cake every year because he's too fucking old for this okay) and wondering how he can make it better.

Making it better isn't really Shishido's thing. It's not really either of their thing, to be completely honest, but it's _definitely _really not his thing. He pushes crumbs and frosting around on his plate pensively, trying to decide the best thing to say. Honestly, Choutarou is kind of blowing things out of proportion, but hey, what's new? And yeah, Shishido gets it. Choutarou has probably been stressing out about getting Shishido's birthday right for weeks, so everything going to hell today is probably a huge deal. Most likely, Choutarou is beating himself up over things that are literally not even possibly his fault.

Shishido flicks his plastic fork against the edge of his plate, watching pinpricks of frosting splatter away from the tines. He chews on his lip, fidgets in his seat, jiggles his leg up and down rapidly. Choutarou is either full on ignoring him (which seems unlikely because they didn't fight or anything) or he's completely absorbed in his own self loathing (probable, since he's apologized approximately 100 times in the past hour). Shishido shovels another mouthful of cake in his mouth, smearing purple across his lips. He reaches up and drags his hand across his mouth, trading the purple lips for a purple hand.

He scrunches his nose up at his own idiocy, then tries to scrape the frosting off on the edge of his plate. He grows increasingly more frustrated, until frosting is smeared everywhere. He's contemplating throwing his plate at the floor when he realizes Choutarou is watching him. Shishido purses his lips, trying and failing not to get embarrassed, _damn it cheeks stop turning red_. He hears Choutarou's tiny huff of a laugh, quickly morphed into a cleared throat. And oh, oh no, Choutarou is not getting out of it that easily.

Shishido uses the only weapon readily available to him. He nonchalantly settles his plate on the arm of the couch, using the twist of his body to hide the two fingers he dunks in the frosting. Then he turns, smiles sweetly (a warning sign Choutarou knows all too well, given the way he sets his plate down and assumes a defensive position), and lunges. Choutarou is hella fast, as he should be. (Legs that long should be criminal, Shishido's convinced). Unfortunately for him, Shishido is hella faster.

Shishido gets his left arm around Choutarou's neck before he's even managed to move, using the frosting covered fingers of his right hand as a threat. Choutarou latches on to Shishido's right arm with both hands, putting his considerable muscle into it. He's laughing though, nearly hysterical. He hiccups an occasional "no" or "don't" or "Shishido!" but there's no power behind the words. Shishido grins fiercely, tamps down his own laughter, and gets his revenge.

They end up a tangled mess, flipped over the arm of the chair. Shishido has one hand on the floor, and he's pretty convinced it's the only reason they haven't toppled completely yet. There's frosting all over the left side of Choutarou's face and it's quite possible there's some up his nose. Shishido can't be blamed for that - it wouldn't have happened if Choutarou hadn't struggled. They're both giggling, drunk on laughter, smothered in purple frosting.

Their eyes meet and hold. Choutarou doesn't say thanks and Shishido doesn't ask if he's okay. They understand enough with just the few seconds of eye contact, as they always do. Shishido grins, sharp and triumphant.

"Hey Choutarou, you've got some frosting on your face."

Choutarou beams.


	5. Untitled 3

Shishido groans, long and low. His head tips back, eyes closing, baring his throat. Choutarou bites back a smirk, blinking a couple times until his face is the image of wide eyed innocence. He twists and leans, hovering over Shishido's face.

"Are you okay, Shishido-san?" He scolds himself internally for the teasing quality to his voice, wanting to extend his game of faux innocence. Shishido slits one eye open, scowling at him.

"You never let me win," Shishido whines, rolling his hips and slouching down. "It's not fair. You're supposed to be a good kouhai."

Ohtori licks his lips and smiles brightly. "Ah," he breathes quietly, "what can I do to be a better kouhai, Shishido-senpai?" He drags out the last syllable, barely holding back the sly laughter bubbling in his chest.

Shishido huffs, cracking open his other eye and taking in Ohtori's expression. He moves slowly, reaching up to settle one hand on Ohtori's shoulder, the other making flighty, aborted motions near Choutarou's jaw.

Choutarou leans a little closer, catches at the arm near his shoulder, wrapping long fingers around a bony wrist. Like lightning, Shishido brings his free hand up, planting it on Choutarou's face and shoving him backwards. The motion sends Choutarou tipping backwards onto the couch, the game controller in his lap tumbling to the floor with a clatter.

Shishido beams triumphantly, snatching up his own controller and restarting the match. Choutarou watches Shishido's character spam the same kick move from his side, lazily reaching down and feeling across the floor for his wayward controller. He catches it with his finger tips, finally hooking the wire and reeling it in. He presses a few buttons, watches his character perform a few combos, and adds another win to his belt.

"Maybe you should just get better at Street Fighter, Shishido-san," Ohtori suggests, flat and sarcastic. Shishido takes one long look at the controller in his hand, before lunging at Ohtori.

Screw Street Fighter, anyway.


	6. Cry

Just a really short drabble, idk.

* * *

Shishido can't make the trembling stop. He balls his fists, slam his knuckles into the meat of his thigh. He bites his bottom lip, hard enough to make his eyes water. He follows the path Ohtori had retreated down, eyes flicking along the route over and over. His vision begins to blur. He grits his teeth, forces his breath steady. He punches his own thigh again. A grunt escapes him, a simple sound forced from deep in his gut.

It's the breaking point.

Suddenly he's gasping for air, choking on each breath. The trembling becomes an almighty convulsion. The dampness in his eyes overflows, pours down his cheeks. Once more he brings his fist down on his leg, grinds his knuckles against the denim of his pants. A sound escapes him. A tiny, pathetic whimper. He presses his palms flat against his eyes, knowing it won't help. It won't help, but Shishido can't make it stop.


End file.
